Sugar High
by S J Smith
Summary: Abby invites McGee to a Halloween costume party. Timmy has reservations.


Title: Sugar High

Author: S J Smith

Rating: Teenish? *hates ratings*

Warnings: N/A

Prompt: NCIS: Abby/McGee: Halloween costumes – candy and sex mix well. Written for the live journal community of springkink.

Word count: 2,200

Summary: Abby invites McGee out to a costume party. Timmy has his own reservations about this idea.

A/N: I tried to make this smutty. I did. Timmy resisted. (The prude.)

* * *

Timothy McGee didn't always consider himself to be a brave man but he definitely didn't think of himself as stupid. When Abby Scioto asked him to be her date for a Halloween party, he'd made sure he knew what he could wear ("The ice elf costume is out, McGee," she'd warned him), so he'd gone with something a bit more…dapper. According to Ducky, John Steed was classy and he was 'always accompanied by beautiful, intelligent women', so Tim bought himself a bowler hat and a sturdy umbrella. The rest of the outfit was easy enough – decent pin stripe suit and tie.

He just hoped Abby would think it was okay. Tim couldn't help but remember her Marilyn Monroe outfit from the year before. It had been all he could do to pry himself out of her lab. The one saving grace had been that Tony was just as stricken. "Not that I have to worry about Tony tonight." As far as he knew, Tony had an all night horror movie festival with some of his college frat buddies and would not be in attendance at this party – not that Tony would probably be invited to one of Abby's friends' parties, anyway, right?

Taking off his hat to smooth his hair, Tim pressed the buzzer. He could hear rustling faintly through the door, a muffled, "Just a minute!" and settled the hat on his head again. Hooking the umbrella over his forearm, Tim hoped he portrayed the right dash of suave and sophistication and didn't look like just a geek. Of course, he wasn't sure that he wouldn't anyway; who knew of some spy show from the late sixties besides Tony and, obviously, Ducky?

The door opened before that thought could progress any further and Tim fumbled with his hat, nearly dropping it at the sight that greeted him. "Don't swallow your tongue, Timmy," Abby said, smirking at him.

"You…uh," he tried to get the blood rushing south to stop for just a minute, so he could form a coherent sentence. "Look nice."

Her smile widened. "Well, Ducky said you were going as Steed, so I figured I should go as Emma Peel." Taking a step back, Abby spread her arms and wriggled her hips, sleeked into what looked like a leather cat suit. "From the look on your face, you like it."

Tim tried hard not to look too closely at the zipper that started at the high collared neck of the form-fitting jacket and went straight down, stopped by a belt wrapped just at the swell off her hips. "Um." He jerked his eyes up to meet her knowing gaze.

Rolling her eyes, Abby grabbed his wrist, pulling him inside the apartment. "I have a few more things to do to get ready. Have a seat." So saying, she strolled through a collection of tombstones (some of them looking eerily real) toward her bedroom. Tim followed the sway of her hips with his eyes, unconsciously licking his lips as he realized she was wearing kitten heel boots and the top of those reached her knees. Leather pants fit her legs like a second skin, tucked into those boots, and a little silver gun hung from its holster in the small of her back. Her black hair was loose and curled up in a flip, hanging around her shoulders in one smooth, sleek curtain. A practical part of him wondered just how Abby planned on getting out of that outfit if she had to use the bathroom but a more vocal and far less practical part was screaming to go after her, throw her into the coffin she used for a bed and have his way with her.

Instead, Tim sat down as requested, hoping he could get himself under control enough to walk Abby to the car without having to do some weird, 'out-of-control-penis' shuffle. Abby wouldn't really mind – she, after all, was something of a tease. How many times had she caught him staring in the lab and not threatened to kill him, after all? Not like Ziva or even Kate. Tim frowned, pursing his lips. Thinking of Kate on Halloween probably wasn't the best idea, even if he was superstitious.

"Did you ever watch _The Avengers_, McGee?" Abby's voice floated out of the bedroom. "I loved that show. John Steed was so dashing and Emma Peel could really kick ass. She'd give Ziva a run for her money. I mean, if Emma Peel was a real person and, you know, we had a time machine, since she'd probably be in her seventies by now and it wouldn't be a fair fight to put her up against Ziva."

"I can't say I'd really heard of the show until Ducky mentioned it." Tim spun the bowler on his finger. It wasn't a bad looking hat but he wasn't sure he'd get much use out of it.

"You should so watch it. I mean, it's really dated and stuff, but for that time period, Emma Peel is really amazing." Abby popped out of her bedroom, smiling broadly.

"Maybe I'll see if I can find the DVDs." Tim gave Abby a lingering look, not seeing that she'd changed anything – at least to her outward appearance – while in the bedroom.

"You should," Abby told him in that oh so serious voice she had. "I think you'd really like them. And discussing Emma Peel's outfits would probably give you bonding rights with Tony. Not that you don't already. Bond, I mean." She gave her hair a little flip. "Ready to go?"

"Sure." Tim hauled himself out of the sofa and followed Abby to the door. Bonding rights. With Tony. Uh huh.

His car wasn't parked very far away. He didn't miss the guys ogling her on even that short walk – not that he blamed them. He almost wanted to walk behind her himself, just to watch the sway of her hips. Of course, that would lead to, well, problems, and Tim decided that walking beside her with her on his arm was probably for the best. Besides, Abby made nice arm candy.

She was wriggling on the seat, getting comfortable, by the time Tim opened the driver's door to climb inside. There was something about her grin that made him purse his mouth. "What?"

"What, what?" Abby widened her eyes.

"You don't do innocent very well." Oops, that probably wasn't the best way to put that, especially when Abby's eyebrows shot up into her bangs.

"Don't I?" She sounded kind of dangerous. Tim could hear Tony's voice adding, 'And hot.' He ignored Tony-in-his-head.

"Um, no?"

"Hmm." Abby considered this, her mouth thinning. "I guess I'll have to work harder at it, then." Gesturing at the street ahead of them, she ordered, "Start the car, McGee! We don't want to be late."

"Uh, right." Tim turned the key in the ignition and, checking his rear and side view mirrors, pulled out onto the street. "Where are we going?"

"To the party!" Abby bounced in her seat. "Don't worry, I'll give you good directions."

"It's actually going to be at someone's house, right? You're not taking me to a cemetery on Halloween night." Risking a sideways glance at her, Tim noticed that gleam in her eyes again. "Abby?"

"Don't be a party pooper." Grinning, Abby showed a lot of teeth as she spun sideways on her seat. Tim automatically checked to make sure she was wearing her seatbelt. She was. "But I wouldn't take you to that kind of party, Timmy. Have a little faith in me." That said, she faced the windscreen again, that smile still playing on her face. "Oh! Turn right at the next light."

Tim followed Abby's directions, including having to make a circle around a city block when there really was no need to as far as he could tell. When he'd been driving for thirty minutes, he wondered if there really was a party or whether they were just going to wind up with Tony and his frat buddies, in which case, Tim knew he was severely overdressed.

"Oh, here! Turn in here." Abby pointed.

"That's a cemetery."

She scrunched up her face. "Timmy, just do it."

With a lingering sigh, Tim turned into the cemetery, wondering just why the gates hadn't been locked up yet. Surely someone didn't want the stones to be tipped.

"Stop. McGee, stop!" Abby unfastened her seatbelt almost before Tim had the ignition switched off. With another of those broad grins, she unlocked the door and hopped out of the car. Tim stared after her, mouth opening to protest, then gave up, tugging the key from the ignition and following her.

Abby led the way up a rounded hill, obviously knowing where she was going. She seemed to be talking but Tim couldn't be sure – who was she talking to? Him? No, maybe the tombstones? Well, she talked to her lab machines, maybe she talked to tombstones, too. Or what the tombstones marked.

"Tim, come on. I want to introduce you." Abby stood next to a monument, hands behind her back, swinging her shoulders from side to side. When he got close enough, Abby nodded up at the carved statue of a little girl wearing a dress. "This is Margaret. I call her Maggie. Maggie, this is my friend, Tim."

Tim looked up at the statue, the girl's face not much higher than his own. "Abby, this isn't why we're in a cemetery, is it?"

With an exasperated sigh, Abby grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the monument. "Can you be a little less rude? I introduced you, you need to say something nice. Like, 'it's nice to meet you'. Or something." Spinning Tim back around, she propelled him to the monument. "Maggie, Tim. Tim, Maggie."

His mouth opened and nothing came out for a second, at least until Abby shoved her elbow into his ribs. "Ack! Um, Maggie, hello. It's, um, nice to meet you." He wondered if he should shake the outstretched hand and decided maybe that was a little too creepy. Abby might've done it, though.

"Much better, McGee!" Abby beamed next to him. "Maggie, I know I promised you something special tonight and I didn't forget." Her leather jacket had zippered pockets in front – Tim realized he hadn't exactly noticed those – and Abby wormed her fingers inside one of the pockets, pulling out a candy necklace. She slipped the elastic around Maggie's wrist. "There." Abby grinned, patting the statue's leg. "Now, Tim and I have a party to get to but I'll come back and tell you about it soon, okay? Happy Halloween, Maggie." She gave Tim an expectant look.

He wondered if he was supposed to have candy, too. "Uh…happy Halloween, Maggie?"

That seemed to satisfy Abby, judging by the squeeze she gave his arm. She turned him around to face the car and they walked down the hill together. "Maggie's been gone a really long time, you know. She died in the eighteen hundreds. There are some people who take care of her grave, 'cause her family died out. We leave her little things, candy, stuffed animals. I think she likes it. It doesn't seem so lonely for her, if people come and visit, don't you think?"

Nodding slowly, Tim risked a look at Abby, seeing her expression was more pensive than usual. "I think it's a very nice thing to do." He didn't really believe in ghosts, not…really…but maybe, if there were such things, Maggie would appreciate Abby's gifts.

"I think so, too. You know, if I don't have any kids, I hope someone takes care of my grave." Abby squeezed his arm again. "But now, we should get moving, huh? Wouldn't want to be late." She thanked Tim for opening the door to the car, sliding inside and smiling up at him through the glass when he closed the door behind her.

Tim walked around the car, opening the driver's door and climbing in. "Now," he said, slipping the key into the ignition, "where to?" A glance over at Abby nearly had him swallowing his tongue. "Abby!"

That wicked grin firmly in place, she drew the zipper of her jacket down a little further, giving Tim confirmation that Abby was definitely not wearing a bra. "What's wrong, Timmy? Cat got your tongue?"

He blinked, opened his mouth, shut it again. "No. But – this is a public area! Not to mention a cemetery!" That didn't seem to do anything but make her grin widen. "And Gibbs would kill us if we got caught."

Abby shrugged. "I guess we shouldn't get caught, then, huh?" Fishing in her pocket again, she came up with another candy necklace. "I got this one for you." The tip of her tongue moistened her lips. "Wanna guess where I want you to wear it?"

Whatever coherent thought might've been left with the ability to protest the idea of sex in a cemetery fled at the implications in that question. "Oh, god."

"Well, you might be saying more of that later." Leaning across, Abby swiftly undid his belt one-handed. "I'd really like it more if you said 'Oh, Abby', though.

"It's more personal."

* * *


End file.
